Centon One Series: Crawl Back In
by Punk Drunk Love
Summary: WWE/TNA CROSSOVER 2012: Lesnar's return to WWE has the entire roster on edge, but no one has been punished more than John Cena, a baby face whose very existence infuriates the former UFC Champ. When Lesnar brutalizes John at a hotel, Randy becomes the only man John can trust. Meanwhile, Kelly Kelly seeks help from a former TNA Champion to avoid being brutalized by Lesnar, herself.


Author's Note: This is a one-shot Centon and other pairings story that I wrote during the time that John Cena was facing Brock Lesnar. It was meant to be longer, but I just never got inspired past a certain point. I don't claim to own any rights to WWE or its affiliates. This story is for entertainment purposes, only.

**APRIL 30, 2012**

**TWO HOURS AFTER RAW WENT OFF-AIR**

**John Cena's POV**

"Oh my God, that was so intense, tonight!" Darren Young belted out from the far corner.

The other guys in the locker room basically yelled and cheered. We all had a good time, tonight.

"Cena? Oh, man, you were awesome out there with Laurinitis, naw' mean?!" Heath Slater added.

Some of the guys laughed. Others shook their heads like they weren't sure what to think.

"It was brutal, John," came a familiar voice.

I looked up from tying my shoe and saw Randy Orton sitting across from me. He had just gotten out of the showers and had a towel wrapped around his waist. As he leaned down to grab his gym bag, I couldn't help glancing at his ass for a second.

Maybe it was all the time we had spent together on tour. Maybe it was because Randy was about the only guy who started about the same time I did who hadn't retired, then decided to come back and face me in an anti-Cena match. We were basically polar opposites personality wise, but something about Randy had always appealed to me, and the more he matured along with me, the more attractive he was to me.

Over the last year, especially with The Rock's return and Wrestlemania looming, I had been split with the fans and even the WWE, finding myself on almost the bottom of the list after years of proving over and over again that I was worth their time. Not to mention the fact that I had been separated from Liz for a while, but I still had to kiss her in front of the cameras to show no hard feelings when the fans flipped out over me kissing Eve on Valentine's Day. I wouldn't call myself bitter, just glaringly aware that I was not first on Mr. McMahon's favorites' list, nor would I ever be, because I had come after the glory days of WWE's Attitude Era.

Despite being apathetic about it all, Randy had become my only constant. He didn't much like Rock, probably because they had very similar control issues, and Randy was the type who made up his mind and stuck with it, no matter what anyone else said or did to try and persuade him.

I sensed that he was also attracted to me, and we were spending more and more time together since my loss to The Rock at Wrestlemania. I hadn't talked to him about my feelings yet, but it wasn't because I was afraid to say something. It was just that things had gotten a little complicated, lately.

I was scheduled to win at Wrestlemania. The Rock and I had even rehearsed our ring entrances and worked out a few ideas for the match a week before it started. The idea was to put me back in the good graces of the fans, as well as to show The Rock that he couldn't just come back and pretend to be on top, again. I ignored the fact that the situation was hypocritical: it didn't matter that he wasn't there every week; the fans adored him when he came out. Frankly, I was just glad that I wouldn't look like a total idiot in front of the entire world.

Then, Brock Lesnar showed up.

As soon as he signed his contract, I was told I'd not only be losing at Wrestlemania, but facing punishment from Lesnar for several weeks until Extreme Rules. I let the whole thing slide for love of the game: I could pass up an epic win if it meant I could fight a legend and one of The Rock's stiffest opponents. I knew that signing Lesnar was also good for the company, and I could make it a point to win the second time around.

"Is your arm okay?" Randy pointed at me while he shuffled through his bag.

"Yeah, it hurts some, but it's fine," I shrugged.

It wasn't as fine as I pretended it was. The Extreme Rules match with Lesnar was one of my best, but also one of the hardest I'd ever been in. Lesnar was one of those shoot-fighters, which was a wrestling term for guys that would play along, while randomly and legitimately kicking your ass. His time with UFC made his most devastating moves so automatic that sometimes I swore he didn't even realize he was in a wrestling ring, vying for a 3-count instead of a knockout.

Randy gave me a sideways glance, and I could tell he knew I was hurting. It was just strained tendons, and although that sometimes hurts worse than an actual break, I didn't want to make a big thing out of it, especially if it meant altering my schedule to compete.

"Yeah, well, make sure you get a massage from Rae," he mentioned.

Rae was one of our massage therapists. The guys loved her because she was gorgeous, but I liked her because she had experience and she knew what she was doing. That doesn't mean I have anything against her looking smokin' hot, though.

"Cena, you comin'?" Hunico nodded to me from the exit.

"Yeah, I'll be right there," I grabbed my bag and waved goodbye to Randy before heading out.

I was going out to drink with some of the guys. I figured it was a good time to celebrate, considering the recent boom in our ratings since Lesnar's return, as well as some big wins at Extreme Rules. Kelly waved me over as I came out to the parking lot, then she hugged me when I came close and asked quietly so no one else would overhear, "Do you think Brock is okay?"

She was referring to earlier in the night. His jilted demeanor toward HHH was part of the show, and the arm-breaking scene was supposed to be a setup, but Brock had made it clear all day that he wasn't happy about losing to me, and when it came time for him to lock HHH's arm, Brock went all the way and the break was real.

"An accident," he claimed, but we all knew better.

I gave Kelly a short smile and replied, "I honestly don't know. When he gets mad, he holds onto it."

"Rumor is management wants him to stay so badly, they're willing to forgive and forget with nothing more than a fine, especially since Paul isn't actively fighting and he can stay home while the break heals," Kelly frowned.

I opened the limo door for her as I remarked, "I didn't expect him to get into much trouble for it. Alls I know is that he was raving mad after losing to me at Extreme Rules, and he won't be living that down until we have a re-match."

"You really want a re-match with him? He's mean," Kelly shuddered.

"What? Is he mean to the Divas?" I asked, concerned.

She shook her head and answered, "No, he's not mean to us, he's just...I don't know...uncomfortable to be around."

"There are a lotta guys like that driving around here," I nodded toward Santino's new Fiat to make Kelly laugh.

She giggled, but her smile fell as she replied, "Brock's not like anyone else. Alicia's afraid to go near him. She says he stares at her a lot."

"Well, you tell Alicia to report it if he does anything crazy, but I doubt he will. The guy's a born fighter. I've met a few like him, before, and none of them are known for their social graces," I reassured her.

Kelly looked me in the eyes and remarked, "You know management wouldn't do much if he was reported. We need him for the show."

I wanted to argue with her that reporting him would be the right thing to do if he got out of control, but I knew better than anyone that she was right. As Kelly slipped into the limo and I took the seat next to her, I felt a sense of unease from her words that I couldn't seem to shake.

"_Brock's not like anyone else."_

She was right about that, but I didn't want to admit to myself that he could truly be dangerous.

* * *

**Randy Orton's POV**

I went back to the hotel on 5th and waited for John. He booked the room next to mine so we could be on the road together the next morning. I liked driving with him. He was entertaining, plus he always had the best ride. Not to mention he'd fix the flat if we got one.

He usually stayed out late when he drank. John was the life of the party at clubs and sports bars, coming back at 5AM all shit-faced, passing out on the bed with his clothes and shoes still on, only to wake up three hours later and be back in business. I never saw him with a hangover. If he was faking it, he was pretty damn good.

I was hoping he'd come back early, though. I wanted to see him, again. Since my split with Sam, I was lonely without someone to come home to, so I spent more time on the road, and more time hanging out with John. He didn't seem to mind it, and in fact, I was pretty sure he was thinking about more than just watching TV and sharing six bags of Cheetos with me.

I was also kinda worried about him. I knew he was lying about his arm earlier, but that wasn't the bigger part of it. There was no secret that Brock Lesnar was pissed he lost to Cena at Extreme Rules, and I knew from personal experience that a guy with anger managements issues would be likely to seek revenge.

My early days were marred with times like that. Bar fights, back-alley brawls, and pretty much anything else I could get into to hide the pain and responsibility of being a wrestling legend's son, a heel, and an addict. I came out of those things to protect my family, but Lesnar had different reasons for his anger: Cena was a man he despised, and he resented the fact that Cena rose to the top.

Lesnar and I were a lot alike, but where I had learned to draw the line to avoid self-sabotage, he was old school and still unclear about his new ranking in the WWE roster. He had come back expecting to be exactly where he was when he left, probably motivated after seeing The Rock play out so well, but the WWE had changed, and Thor had long since lost his hammer. John had nothing to do with the change, but I could see in Lesnar's eyes that he didn't care.

Cena would get his. It was only a matter of time.

I left the TV on to keep me awake while I waited. I was watching some SyFy Channel movie that was totally lame, but the people in it kept getting killed in really gross ways, so I stuck with it. The night got later, and it was either switching to porn, or trying to sit through a half-hour infomercial pitch from that creepy guy selling Sham-Wows.

I chose porn, for obvious reasons. It played out like an episode about some chick that found her long lost lover and they did some stuff to each other, then some guy walked in and they did some stuff with him, then two other chicks happened to drop by and they all did stuff to each other. I was surprised to find myself getting bored by all the routine shit, and I kept glancing at the clock, hoping Cena would show up, already.

3:00

3:01

3:04

3:15

3:42

The porn was ending, and the channels were switching back to regular movies. It was all stuff I had seen, so I switched to ESPN, which was showing an old re-run of The World Poker Tour. It was strangely very exciting, and I stopped checking the clock to focus on the player's hands, arguing at the TV every time someone folded a good play.

A knock at my door made me jump a little bit. It was so late, I figured it had to be Rhodes, a chronic insomniac, asking to borrow my headphones again, or maybe Mark Henry coming to tell me he'd just figured out that I was teasing him earlier when I said he looked like the Greek God Fatator.

I got up and went to the door, noticing that the person didn't knock twice. It couldn't be Rhodes, then, because he was always too hyper. Mark would've probably banged on the door, so I checked the peephole to see who it was.

John.

He looked oddly distant as his eyes stared blankly at the door. I opened it wide to let him inside and asked, "What's up? Your room's next door, you know."

"I don't wanna go in there," he mumbled, rushing past me to get into my room.

Something wasn't right. I could feel it in my gut as I closed the door and turned back to face John. He went over to my bed and kind of hopped into it so he could lay down from the standing position, instead of just sitting and lying back like a normal person would. He kicked his shoes off and put his hands on his stomach, then he just stared at the ceiling like he was somehow frozen in time.

"Cena?" I asked curiously, walking over to the side of the bed to check on him.

I thought he was messing around at first. Cena was known for well played pranks, and I had no idea why he was plotting one now, but I thought I'd play along to amuse him.

He just kept staring at the ceiling. I laughed and asked him again, "Cena?"

Whatever he was doing, it wasn't very funny. I dropped the smile and told him, "I'm sorry, I don't get it, man."

Cena wasn't the type to let a joke get cruel. If I told him I didn't get it, he'd always stop, but this time, he still wouldn't bother to get his eyes off the ceiling.

"John, what the hell are you-" I started to yell.

"Lesnar raped me," he said.

I blinked a few times as I tried to process what he just said. This couldn't be a joke, but it didn't make sense to me that it was really happening, either.

John finally looked away from the ceiling and his eyes gazed through mine as if he were somewhere else. I slowly sat down on the edge of the bed and asked him thickly, "Why?"

I already knew the answer, but I still felt the need to ask the question. John swallowed hard and told me, "This isn't over. He said he'll come back for me."

John didn't seem afraid, but spoke more like he was letting me know that this wouldn't be the first or the last time Lesnar would exact punishment on him.

"He won't come back for you," I told him.

"Why wouldn't he?" John didn't understand.

I took his hand in mine and squeezed it as I stated, "Because I'll be here with you."

* * *

**John Cena's POV**

**THE AMBER ROOM**

**PRIVATE NIGHTCLUB ACCESS**

**3 HOURS AFTER MONDAY NIGHT RAW**

We hit a club not too far from the arena. It was a VIP-only access joint, which meant we could basically get away with whatever we wanted.

Hunico, Kelly, and I took a curtained booth near the dance floor. Kofi, Rhodes and Swagger took another booth near the bar. While Hunico and the others were looking for a good time, Kelly stayed near me the whole night. It was harder for the Divas to make an easy hookup when all guys wanted to do was prove that they could pin one down to their mattress for the 3-count.

I didn't mind hanging out with Kelly. I wasn't really interested in a hookup, anyway. We started off with a round of drinks, then Hunico took off with Kofi and Swagger to talk to some girls by the bar. Rhodes came to our booth for the second round of drinks, then he went off to talk to a group of guys at the far side of the room. Kelly and I debated about Rhodes' sexual orientation for a while, but he ultimately went after a chick, so we had to give up the guessing game...for now.

Kelly was drinking something light, while I was going for the stronger stuff. I could hold my liquor well, and when she asked me out to the dance floor for a few numbers, I politely obliged. Dancing wasn't my strong suit, but I had to take a class once to learn how to be lighter on my feet in-ring, so I figured I could give it a few minutes.

The hours passed. Kofi, Rhodes and Swagger left before midnight. I saw Hunico still chatting it up with a couple of girls, and Kelly wanted to keep dancing, so I stayed for another round of drinks.

Kelly and I went back to our booth and talked for a while. She wasn't too drunk, but she was getting tired. The curtain kept our booth private from the rest of the club, and Kelly straddled me across my lap so we could make out for a while.

A wrestler's schedule was complete chaos. There was hardly any time for relationships, so most of us just hooked up with each other in a, "Don't ask, don't tell," kind of way. Kelly and I slept together a few times before I was married. She used to tell me what a great kisser I was, and I vaguely remembered her complimenting the things I could do with my fingertips.

Her skin was so soft, and her hair always smelled like the beach. We hadn't gotten this close in a long time, and I had forgotten how fun she could be. She had this laugh that was contagious; she always tugged on the sides of my t-shirt like she wanted so badly to just lift it up and tear it right off of me.

"Do you want to go back to the hotel with me?" Kelly asked as she gently massaged my sore arm.

"Damn, I want to, Darlin', but I can't," I told her, honestly.

It had been a long time since I'd been with somebody, and I really needed one good fuck, but I knew that Randy would be waiting for me to get back, and I had the chance to spend the night with him.

She frowned and I explained, "I'm sorry, Love. Randy and I are riding together tomorrow morning. He'll be pissed if I'm not next door where I said I'd be."

Kelly nodded with understanding. We all knew not to piss off The Viper.

"Do you wanna go back now, anyway? I think I've had enough to drink," Kelly said.

"Yeah, let's go," I let her slide off of me and we got up to leave.

Hunico had already left with his girls. Kelly and I went outside and she huddled in close to me, thinking we would have to wait a while for the limo to come back from dropping off Hunico, but it was only a couple of minutes before it showed up.

Kelly rested her head on my shoulder during the drive back to the hotel. She was practically asleep when we arrived, so I picked her up and carried her to her room. She had a key card in her purse, and I used it to get in. I put Kelly into bed and set her purse on the table, making a quick security check of the room out of habit before I left.

The hotel had 10-floors, and I was on the third floor. As luck would have it, my room was with Randy's on the 9th.

I figured in my head how many calories I would burn by taking the stairs. At the time, it seemed like a better idea than going back downstairs to the lobby and taking the elevator.

Now, I know better.

* * *

**Kelly's POV**

**THE PARKING LOT OF THE ARENA**

**SIX HOURS BEFORE MONDAY NIGHT RAW**

"Did you see that look he gave me? I mean no, just no," Alicia's hair bounced from side-to-side when she shook her head.

"I know what you mean, I know," I laughed.

Alicia did this pose with her hands on her hips and her shoulders squared, like she was making a dramatic attempt at confronting the guy in the crowd last night. I laughed even harder when I imagined her running into the stands and scaring the guy half to death.

She was in a dark match before Extreme Rules last night to entertain the crowd before the taped matches started. Some guy in the third row was holding up a poster that said: _I WANT TO SEE ALICIA'S FOX-HOLE_, and she was still pretty upset about it.

It wasn't the first or last time a Diva was shown a sexually graphic poster, but we always reported them to management, just in case the person holding the poster wasn't joking.

"I was kind of surprised it weren't that Lesnar bitch," Alicia clicked her tongue.

She meant it to be funny, but it made me feel uneasy to laugh out loud. Alicia glanced around the parking lot, herself, just to make sure Brock wasn't anywhere around. He was the only guy the Divas were universally afraid of. I couldn't remember tensions being this high since I was with WWE, but Lita told us that Randy was pretty volatile and compulsive when he was younger. A couple of Divas even reported him once, saying Randy had dumped their gym bags to spite them, but Christy Hemme said there was no way Randy did it, and nothing like that ever happened, again.

I had my own, more personal issues with Randy. He had recently gone on a radio show talking about my stints with other guys. He made me sound like a slut, and I was humiliated, but he never gave the guys' names, and he even apologized to me publicly on Twitter. He bought me a dozen roses and apologized again in front of everybody backstage. I didn't talk to him for a while, but Randy had this way about him where, even when he did really dumb-shit things and you wanted to just hate his guts, you still couldn't help forgiving him.

When Brock first showed up, we all thought he was going to be like Randy: one of those types that's born for the ring, but not great on the social part. We all found out the hard way that Brock had no intention of trying to make friends. All he cared about was business: looking good, fighting hard, and having his own dressing room.

"I hope he doesn't really break Paul's arm, tonight," I mentioned.

Alicia and I both folded our arms and shuddered, almost like we thought we might jinx him just by talking about it.

The silence was too awkward. A breeze was picking up and it was getting colder, but neither of us tried to go inside.

We knew Brock was in there.

Alicia tried to change the subject, "So, you goin' out with John and the boys, tonight?"

"I dunno, maybe," I shrugged.

Alicia cackled and I couldn't help smiling. She knew I was planning on jumping John's bones, later.

If she only knew how bad I needed some, and how good he was at delivering.

We both felt better, so we started to head inside as Alicia told me, "You make sure you get him alone! He's been hanging out with Randy so much, I'd say those boys are gay with each other or something."

I snorted laughter, and Alicia busted into a fit as we walked down the hallway to the girls' locker room. Alicia added over her shoulder, "You should at least make out with John. You and Eve, always talkin' about what a fine kissin' man he is!"

She purposefully made herself sound streetwise just to make me laugh some more.

We rounded the corner and Alicia stopped dead in her tracks. She's much taller than me, and I couldn't see what she had stopped for. I went around and joked loudly, "What are you doing? Did an elephant cross our path?"

I looked ahead and realized it was Brock that had made Alicia stop. He was already in the zone, a wrestling term for competitors who did ritual things, sometimes long before their matches, to get into character. Some of the guys and girls totally changed their behaviors, but Brock was one of those that always seemed to be working on overdrive.

He was bouncing from side-to-side and shaking his head around like a caged gorilla. He looked like he wasn't even affected by his brutal match last night with John. I remembered feeling sick to my stomach when John came backstage and the doctors surrounded him. I was sure Brock had sidelined him until next Wrestlemania.

John had thankfully escaped, but I wasn't sure if Alicia and I were so lucky.

"Excuse us," I mumbled, taking Alicia's arm and pulling her to the other side of the hallway.

Brock didn't respond. I tried to get past him quickly without looking like we were trying to get away. We were almost around the next corner when Brock called behind us, "Hey, Kelly, come here."

I felt like I was back in high school and my Geometry teacher, Mr. Carls, was calling on me to finish a problem in front of the class. I didn't want to turn around, but I knew ignoring Brock would be worse. I let go of Alicia and tried to put my best face forward as I turned back to him. I panicked when I realized he was walking towards us.

He was so close, I could smell his stinky sweat. Alicia took a big step back, but positioned herself behind me in case I needed her. I was trying so hard not to shake, I hardly noticed when Brock stopped a few feet from me and looked up.

"Everything okay, here?" Randy asked from somewhere behind me.

Brock just stared past me with this blank look on his face, like he wasn't sure if he should respond or not. His chicken lips slowly curled up into a wicked smile, and he made this stupid laugh and shrugged his shoulders a few times before turning on his heel and walking back the other way.

I couldn't move until Brock was completely gone. Alicia put her hands on my shoulders and whispered, "Come on, Kels."

I turned around and looked up at Randy. Even after all we'd been through, I'd never been so happy to see him in my life. He wasn't great with social skills, but he had this odd talent for reading people like no one else could, and it only took him a couple of seconds to turn his head to one side as he picked up on my intense anxiety.

"Thanks, Randy," Alicia told him as she grabbed my arm and we breezed by.

This time, she was the one leading me down the hallway. I let her because I was still so dazed. I glanced back only once to see if Randy was still there.

He was already gone.

* * *

**Randy Orton's POV**

**RANDY'S HOTEL ROOM**

**THE MORNING AFTER JOHN'S CONFESSION**

"You wanna tell me what happened?" I whispered to John.

It had taken him so long to get to sleep, I didn't know if he'd even be coherent when the time came. He started to sit up, and I got on my knees to help him, but he pushed my hands away and stated, "I can do this."

"Alright," I put my hands up.

He was mostly sliding himself over to the edge of the bed, and I knew he was in a lot of pain. He mostly used his good arm and threw his legs over the side of the bed to propel himself to the sitting position. He held his sore arm and just sat there for the longest time; I thought he had somehow fallen back to sleep.

"I'm not sure I can talk about it. Not right now," he said over his shoulder.

"That's okay. Take as long as you need," I didn't want to rush him.

He was quiet, again, so I got out of bed on my side and ordered room service. I grabbed some clothes out of my bag and looked at John. He had tears in his eyes and I hated to ask, "You want me to go next door and get your bag?"

"FUCK!" he shouted, slamming the bedside table so hard, the wood split on top.

He was so angry, the tears just fell without notice down his red face. I dropped my shit and went over to comfort him. He was shaking as I put my hands on his shoulders and said, "Don't hold it in, man. If you wanna fuck this place up, I'll pay the damages."

John blinked a few times and started to calm down. He stared at me a while before he just busted out laughing. I took the opportunity to link my arms around his good one, and I helped him stand up.

He stopped laughing and hissed in pain as he put his hand over the back of his jeans. I was curious to check out the damage, but John didn't seem up to it, so I led him to the bathroom and told him, "Take as long as you want. I'll get you some clothes and breakfast is on the way."

I let go of him and went back to the main room. I turned back in a few seconds and found him still standing where I left him. I shook my head and asked, "What else do you need, Cena?"

"Can I leave the door open?" he asked it like he was worried I'd be mad.

"That's cool. I'll tell room service to leave the cart outside," I answered easily.

"Okay," John mumbled, but he still didn't move.

"You need something else?" I waited.

His ocean blue eyes stayed on the floor as he told me, "I wish I could've told you I loved you before this happened."

It was an oddly touching moment for me. I wasn't that type of guy, but I literally felt warm when I heard John's words. I replied with the best thing I could think of, "Well, you told me now, so it still counts."

His eyes rose up to meet mine. He seemed comforted that I would respond like that, as if he had already decided I would tease him for being a pretty boy pansy.

I added with a hard sigh, "I know I sound like a dick saying it now, but I was going to tell you I loved you back last night in hopes of getting into your pants."

John couldn't help chuckling. He knew my super dry sense of humor better than anyone, and he knew I used it a lot to convey something serious without making it sound like rainbows and shit.

I was glad to see him happy. I wanted to keep him that way.

But we'd be meeting up with Lesnar for an in-house show, soon, and that was sure to wash Johnny Boy's smile right away.

* * *

**Randy Orton's POV**

**THE BRIDGERLAND HOTEL**

**MADISON, WISCONSIN**

**TWO WEEKS AFTER CENA'S**

**ENCOUNTER WITH LESNAR**

"John? John, wake up," I tried to get his attention.

He was thrashing around on his stomach, crying out at the unseen force that had turned his otherwise pleasant dreams into a nightmare.

"John? JOHN!" I yelled as a last resort.

His eyes popped open and he instinctively threw his elbow back, hitting me right in my left eye.

"Fuck!" I cried, grabbing my eye and backing away from John to avoid further damage.

John rolled over to face me and blinked with surprise. It took him a few seconds to realize where he was and _who_ I was. He shot up on his knees and told me, "Oh, shit, I'm sorry, Randy, I thought you were...I'm sorry, man..."

He reached for my eye, but I turned away from him and said, "It's no big. You didn't get me too good; I'll live."

I relaxed and went back to watching the boxing match on the big-screen TV. John stared at me in silence for a while, then he unexpectedly leaned in and pressed his lips against mine.

He started off with a sense of caution, kissing me softly to test my reaction before he started building any pressure. I reached for his hips, but he pulled my hands away and told me, "No, no touching, please. I just wanna kiss you."

"All right," I nodded, and we began again.

Kissing him was different than I thought it would be. I always imagined this ferocious make-out session in the middle of some massively climactic moment, like after I'd beat Lesnar's ass or right before John and I fucked each other's brains out.

But this wasn't a climactic moment, and I didn't think John was ready to fuck, yet. He just wanted to test the waters, and I had no plans to scare him off.

* * *

**Kelly's POV**

**THE FAIRVIEW HOTEL**

**2 BLOCKS FROM THE BRIDGERLAND**

_OMG NATTIE! LOL!_

I sent the text and plugged my Android in to recharge for the night. It was already really late and I had been texting Natalya for the last three hours. She was staying at the Bridgerland with John, Randy, Kofi and some of the other wrestlers, while the rest of us were at the Fairview a couple of blocks away. She had been teasing me non-stop because I had hitched a ride with Tyler Reks and all the Divas had carpooled together, so they had all checked into the Bridgerland, and I was the only wrastlin' girl staying at the Fairview.

At least Tyler had taken the room next to mine. I could hear him snoring through the wall. The guy was super sweet and any girl could get lost in those gorgeous baby blues of his, but he could wake the dead with that noise.

I banged on the wall and yelled, "Hey, Ty! You want me to go in there and sit on your face?!"

He kind of snorted and the sound stopped. I laughed as I imagined him sitting up in bed and looking around like, "What the fuck was that?!"

A tap against the other wall on the opposite side of the room made me gasp. I suddenly realized I had yelled loud enough for the person on my other side to overhear me; probably another wrestler. I blushed with embarrassment and shouted at the other wall, "Sorry!"

I didn't hear a response. Not even a muffled curse word. I figured the person didn't care all that much, because I would've heard them picking up the phone to tell the lobby, so I shrugged it off and turned the lights out to go to sleep.

The sound of my phone buzzing woke me up. I was kind of startled and I blinked a few times so my eyes would adjust to the darkness of the room. My phone's main screen lit up on the bedside table, and I caught something weird from the light of the phone out of the corner of my eye.

I looked right at it and saw Brock's face staring back at me.

He was in my room.

I sat up in bed and screamed. He grabbed me and put his hand over my mouth before I could get another scream out. It was still night and I was terrified no one had heard me. I tried to bite his hand as I struggled to get away from him, but he was too strong.

He dragged me out of bed and onto the floor. He pinned me down on my stomach and kept one hand over my mouth while he used his other hand to unzip his jeans.

I was used to being pinned down in the ring, but this wasn't like rolling out from under The Glamazon. I felt like an elephant had parked a Hummer right between my shoulder blades. I could hardly breathe as I wrapped my hands over the wrist covering my mouth and dug my nails into his skin.

Lesnar grunted like it didn't hurt him that much, but he did let go long enough for me to roll out from under him. His boner made it hard for him to get up and chase me, and it gave me just enough time to open my door and run out into the hallway.

I looked back and forth. There was no one, around. I could bang on Tyler's door and try to get him up, but it may take some time for him to come out to me, and Lesnar was on his way.

I took off running. A memory from earlier in the day was all that was on my mind as an adrenaline rush kicked in and I took off down the stairwell.

Brock was fast, I knew that from seeing him in the ring. The cameras had to slow down the shot of Brock punching John's mouth bloody. None of us watching in the back even knew he had hit John that hard, and we were trained to pick up on violence. I heard the door to the stairs open from above as I rushed to get to the 3rd floor.

I knew someone in room 302. I had talked to him just a few hours ago. He wasn't a member of the WWE roster, but Mickie James introduced us a few years ago when I stopped by to visit with her. He was a sweet Southern boy who still called the ladies, "Ma'am."

He had signed in under an alias because he knew the WWE would be in town, and a conflict of interest was an easy fire-starter for a bunch of guys wanting to show a top member of the rival circuit who's really the best in the business. He had come up to see a friend, and I remembered he had mentioned he was having trouble sleeping. I was gunning on the fact he was still awake.

_God, I hope he didn't take sleeping pills._

I rushed through the door to the 3rd floor. I hoped Brock hadn't heard me leave the stairwell as I ran down the hallway, searching the numbers on the doors frantically for 302.

_314, 312, 310...fuck..._

I ran faster. I thought I heard the stairwell door open far behind me. If Brock were coming, he'd catch me in seconds.

_302..._

"Shit!" I screamed as I passed it.

I turned to run back to the door. I looked down the hallway and saw Brock coming towards me.

I banged on the door with all my might and screamed, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAA JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ!"

He answered faster than I anticipated, and I was practically hyperventilating as I jumped onto him and we fell backward into his room.

I kicked the door closed just in time. We both hit the floor and I covered A.J.'s mouth so he wouldn't say a word.

We waited. I heard the creaking of someone coming up to the door, and I braced myself.

No sound. No knocking. Nothing.

The creak came again as the person stepped away from the door, then I heard heavy footfalls going down the hallway, and finally, the sound of the stairwell door opening and closing.

"Oh, God, oh God," I took my hand away from A.J.'s mouth and just started sobbing against his bare chest.

"Uh...hello to you, too, Miss Kelly," A.J. Styles patted my back to comfort me.


End file.
